


What if he's right?

by ShadowCatsKey



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowCatsKey/pseuds/ShadowCatsKey
Summary: "He wasn't going to be able to destroy that anomaly. As frustrating as that felt, she couldn’t blame him- not when the face staring at them was his own. But it wasn’t him. It was an it. That's what it was- she refused to think of it as a 'him,' as 'The Doctor', when it was nothing but an illusion, a palpable fear, something that drew from the depths of their minds- hers, his, Daisy’s- all of them. What did it matter whose fear it was? This wasn't his world--it was theirs."[ What if The Doctor had actually been a fear anomaly- not just in Fitz' head? ]





	What if he's right?

**Author's Note:**

> It has been *years* since I have attempted fanfiction, but I was encouraged by a friend on Discord to try my hand at writing The Doctor.  
I had so many different ideas, but eventually settled on my first completed oneshot being an alternate route/alternate ending;  
What if The Doctor had actually been an anomaly created by that rift back in season 5? What if he hadn't been in Fitz' head- and everyone had to face him?
> 
> Plays off of Season 5 - Episode 14 - "The Devil Complex."  
Oh, and, noone knows exactly who Deke is yet.

"Y...you're saying Daisy could manipulate the Gravitonium?"

_ Oh no. _ His voice, quiet, nervous, silenced Jemma where she had been pleading with Deke- and the both of them, herself, Deke, had whipped their heads around, only to see Fitz no longer stood next to them. He had taken a few steps forward, further into the makeshift surgery station that looked more like it belonged in a haunted house than SHIELD HQ. He had a hand hovering around the back of his head, and the arm held away from himself. Even with his face turned away from her, he wasn’t hard at all to read- he was panicking, she could hear it in his voice, see it in the way his fingers shook, his shoulders tensed-

He wasn't going to be able to destroy that anomaly. As frustrating as that felt, she couldn’t blame him- not when the face staring at them was his own. But it wasn’t him. It was an _ it _ . That's what it was- she refused to think of it as a 'him,' as 'The Doctor', when it was nothing but an illusion, a palpable fear, something that drew from the depths of their minds- hers, his, Daisy’s- all of them. What did it matter whose fear it was? This wasn't _ his _ world-

-it was _ theirs _.

There were a multitude of tools lying about; smaller medical instruments, all familiar, along with a couple larger pieces that belonged in the garage rather than a med bay- including a pair of wrenches which caught her eye. However, when she went for one, Deke did, as well- at first, she assumed he’d grab the second one, then they could take on the anomaly together. Backup. Teamwork-

However, his hands pressed down on the tool, as if... as if to prevent her from picking it up.

"Deke-?" She challenged and glanced up at him, her voice a harsh whisper. "What are you _ doing- _"

"H...Hear me out," The younger man murmured, his voice almost trapped in his throat, his face... shocked, fearful, thoughtful. For a moment, he was silent, his own eyes aimed down at the tool, at their hands. Slowly, he began to shake his head, and let out a long, shuddering breath. "What... what if he's right? It- it makes sense- What if... We need to let him-"

"We can't listen to him!" No, no, he couldn’t get to Deke too. Her heart dropped at what felt like a repeat of before, of when she witnessed her friends get drawn in and blinded by the Framework’s logic- it couldn’t happen again. "He's trying to manipulate you, trying to terrify you, it's all he does!" That was all. He had no power here. _ He had no power here _ . Jemma grabbed at the wrench with her other hand, and tried to pull it away from Deke- who resisted. That only made her square herself and pull again. That started a short fight where she went for one tool, then the other, where Deke had to act fast to stop her; which he could do. As someone who was used to scrapping for pure survival it made sense, but if she could just get a _ grip _ on the handle, she’d be able to arm herself easily. But- Dammit-! She could understand Deke’s fear, his memory of that cracked earth and then the _ horrible _ future which befell _ everyone _ he had known- but if he got that wrench, then she couldn't help him. She looked at him again, strain likely clear in her eyes, her face. "And _ if _ any of what he says _ happens _ to be true-" Her voice was a mixture of explaining and pleading. "-we'll work _ together _ , on our _ own, _you and me, and Fitz and Daisy, we’ll figure it all out once we-"

A harsh, barking laugh - something so close to being familiar yet so _ wrong _ when it sounded so heartless, coming from that _ thing _ \- made her flinch, made Deke jerk his hands up. It. _ It _ had turned to look at them, that illusion in a suit. One hand remained in a pocket while the other held a scalpel in its fingertips, lightly, but not as if it feared the implement's use and thus was using caution; on no. It spoke of comfort and worked as intimidation- Deke had retreated, Fitz was frozen. Jemma, however, finally had a hold of the wrench. She didn’t dare move, however; off to each side were two of that _ things _ guards, figures in armored gear which mirrored the android that had shot Mac. That one had been real. Jemma didn’t want to find out if the guns these guards held could do the same damage- not yet.

"Just admit it," The anomaly in a suit muttered in that damn _ voice _ . "I'm right." The scalpel was then pointed at Daisy who remained where she was, eyes dark, chin pulled toward her neck as she glowered at her attacker. "I'm _ right _ \- and without me, you'd have _ never _ thought of this. You'd have been _ too _ distracted by not having Daisy as an _ option _ ." He put a hand on the side of his face, and suddenly, his features smoothed, lost the hostility. "' _ Oh, she has that inhibitior in her still, whatever can we do?’ _ ” Rang out as he glanced backward at Daisy, then back to his captive audience. _ “We need to look elsewhere for answers, but gosh, this doesn't work!'" _

With those mocking words, it turned on Fitz. Jemma had the wrench in her hands, readied like a baseball bat-

A guard across the room raised its gun, and she froze.

A smile crossed the anomaly’s mind, cruel and amused by that development, though its eyes remained on Fitz. "You weren't going to be able to think of that- not with that scattered brain up in there," It suggested, the words low and dark. The scalpel was now pointed toward Fitz' head, the motion smooth, a threat even if the blade wasn’t a larger weapon. The shadow of The Doctor had turned at the same time, which meant Jemma had complete lost her window to move, something which made her clench her teeth and watch, watch as the _ thing _ circled Fitz, putting him _ in the way- _

However, it paused, its eyes - terrifyingly bright - locked onto its _ real _ counterpart. A thoughtful look crossed its face, not a pleasant sight, before he leaned forward. "Wasn't it nice, _ Fitz _, when Ophelia put your head back together? I bet you miss it, don't you?"

Beside them, Deke still had his hands up. His head was tilted and his mouth open in confusion- but the guns kept him, for once, quiet.

At the same time, the mention of _ Aida _ made Jemma grip the wrench tighter, made her visibly ground her teeth as she glared at the anomaly, as if _ daring _it to look at her. But as that anger swirled through her, held back by the threat of those potential guns and the anomaly so close to Fitz, she saw how Fitz’ face changed, the way the panic faded into an almost forlorn look- a short, subtle expression that was gone when the man lifted a hand and wiped it across his face. His other hand came in front of him, palm forward, as if signaling for the anomaly to stop, to not come any closer- or maybe to create distance between himself and the others. He breathed rapidly, deeply through his nose, and his voice wavered. “No- I don’t miss it-”

“_ Really? _ ” The anomaly’s voice was twisted by laughter. The scalpel was tossed once and caught, as if it were a ball or a pencil. “Surely, you don’t mean that. It must have been nice, being so self-assured, having every ounce of damage and trauma erased, every neuron individually _ fixed _-”

“That was _ brainwashing _ -!”

But before Jemma could argue more, Fitz threw out his arms in a violent, furious gesture-

“_ That made everything worse! _ ”

The anomaly raised brows in surprise and leaned back, ever so slightly; almost as if intrigued by the outburst. Fitz, his breathing still rapid, still heavy, looked around the room- pointedly, quickly, though Jemma didn’t miss that short moment where he looked at her, his eyes now filled with resolve.

She let out a quiet, hopeful breath.

An instant later, Jemma saw past Fitz, past the anomaly, and her vision focused on Daisy in the background. (Beside her, Deke did the same.) She was, still strapped and exhausted looking over on that table, though there didn’t appear to be any incisions yet- thank god. They needed to keep it that way.

Daisy’s gaze met hers, and she motioned with her eyes down and to the left- toward the cuffs, the belt buckles which only held her down because she wasn’t able to quake them, and the anomaly, apart. She may not have had her powers right then, but in that body was an Agent trained by Melinda May - and, well, who had learned a few tricks from Ward that she used for good - and that was more than enough to help turn the tide in this fight.

Fitz had taken a step forward by then, had stepped up toward the anomaly version of himself. “She played with the world, she played with everyone’s memories, she _ played _ with my brain- there was no _ fixing! _” He gestured toward the plastic that surrounded the room, at one of the guards-

Both armed guards then diverted their attention to Fitz, where his voice filled the room, pain pulling at his words as he stood face to face with that dark version of himself- and Jemma mentally thanked him for the distraction, despite how hard it must have been. So she didn’t waste time; on her toes, Jemma took two strides to get to Daisy’s side. She put the wrench down on the bed and got to work on the restraints, thankfully just a belt loop- a real one, or at least real at that moment, something that she didn’t think about too hard. It only took a few pulls before Daisy’s hands were free. Now able to sit up herself, she leaned forward and started to work on freeing her own legs-

-but she shift in her weight rocked the bed, and Jemma held her breath as the wrench started to fall.

She grabbed at it, but missed; another set of hands, Deke’s, had also made a desperate grab combined with how he’d basically thrown himself at the floor to try and stop the noise- but to no avail. The wrench hit the floor. It clattered and bounced against the concrete and silenced every human voice in the room. Deke too hit the ground, his momentum too great. The gurney-table _ thing _ fell over as he slid into the legs, taking Daisy with it on the other side, where she had just barely gotten her second ankle free.

The anomaly turned, face hard, head turned down to cast small shadows over his eyes. One hand came up and pointed in their direction. The guards turned.

Jemma had already started to lean down and had two fist-fulls of Deke’s jacket - thankfully a cleaner, contemporary one. She pulled him backward. They, along with Daisy, scrambled behind the fallen table as the first series of shots rang out, striking the table in the middle. The metal bowed outward as the rounds pierced it, proving that they could at the very least affect the surroundings, which made Jemma even more sure she didn’t want to try her luck with those bullets versus anyone’s skin.

Deke looked backward, as if he wanted to get at that wrench; Jemma looked in the other direction, wishing there was something _ else _ she could grab, a tool, a pistol, something with icers-

Daisy had other ideas. The shots had barely stopped firing when she put her palms on the floor, reoriented herself, and then _ kicked _ at one of the rolling carts that had rested around the room. The cart sailed in that direction, tipping over at the last second but not before it hit the one guard hard enough to knock them off their feet.

At the same time, Fitz was on the other one. He pulled their gun off target, which sent a line of fire up the wall, into the ceiling. The lights flickered. Stone dust floated down around them, but there was no time to worry about breathing it. Not that it mattered, as Fitz was now the one with the firearm.

Jemma bolted out from behind the table the way she’d come; Deke put a hand on the edge and vaulted over it, which meant he had the wrench in his hands by the time Daisy had reached the first guard. Daisy immediately ripped the gun from its hands and attacked its legs, cracking bone around the knee before she turned the gun around to fire into its torso.

Meanwhile, the other guard had twisted itself free. While it tried to wheel around, Deke was across the floor. “_ Hey! _” He called out, his voice sharp and attention drawing- a tone used by someone who knew how to play bait and get away. “Over here, goggle-face!”

When he turned to look, Jemma pushed a second cart; it fell over much sooner, but that was the plan. The body hit the back of the guard’s legs, causing him to fall backward- and as he did, Deke readied the wrench, swung it overhead, and aimed for the visor.

That only left the one-

“Jemma!”

The second wrench was in her hands at last when Daisy’s voice rang out. As Jemma stood back up, she expected to see Daisy maybe about to toss over the other gun- instead, there was an arm lashing out, a dark sleeve filling her vision. Pain radiated out from the back of her head as she was caught and turned- it took her a good few heartbeats to realize she must have been grabbed by her hair. Dirty. Exactly like how a cowardly _ figment _ would fight. With her feet still planted, she went to strike with her own wrench, only for her arms to be caught by the anomaly’s other hand.

Now her face was turned up, her head forced back, chin raised. Funny. A couple years ago, the position would have left her petrified- especially since she was forced to look at that _ face _ , that familiar looking _ fake _ . Right then, however, there was no fear- only disgust and _ loathing _.

She wasn’t at the mercy of the Framework this time, however.   
This wasn’t Fitz.  
She didn’t have to worry about who she was potentially killing.

Those bright eyes glared down at her, a mockery of that color. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what _ you _ did to me,” The anomaly snarled, that hand tightening its grip in her hair- as much as it hurt, it was nothing compared to when she had been shot in the leg in that simulation. Not even close.

“_ You deserved it _,” She barked back as she began to adjust her feet. She tensed the arm with the wrench, forced the anomaly to focus on it when in reality she was preparing to kick-

“_ Don’t you touch her! _”

-but she didn’t need to.

As much as she would have _ reveled _ in tearing that anomaly apart, there was nothing like the feeling of having true _ support _ at her back.

As the two guards were fading from existence, their forms dusting then seemingly falling into the ground, Fitz stormed over, grabbed at a shoulder and sent an elbow into the anomaly’s head. Real or fake, there was the sound of a broken nose and maybe a shattered eye socket. There was the sight of red blood on its face and Fitz’ sleeve- and the pressure in her hair vanished. Wrenching herself free from its grip, she used her own arms to knock them back, and in Daisy’s direction.

When she stumbled, Fitz reached out an arm and caught her- a gift of balance which she reciprocated when he had to lean forward, his eyes wide, his torso heaving.

Both were able to watch as Daisy lifted the gun again. The anomaly of The Doctor stepped to the side as if to avoid her shots- but he hadn’t noticed Deke.

Before it could do anything, Deke spun him around and brought the wrench down on its head, causing a sickening _ crack _ to echo before a new cloud of fading hallucination filled the air, and trickled away.

Even as silence descended upon the room, with the guards and _ he _ now gone, the quartet remained where they stood, staring down at what resembled a burn mark that was being slowly washed away by rain. Did they expect them to come back, with that fissure still active? Did they expect them to somehow reappear, like some immortal villain loophole? Maybe.

It was Deke who spoke first. With wide, wild eyes, he let his arms drop to his side. “So- so- just- what the hell was that?” He looked then at Fitz, his mouth twisted and half open. “Some- evil- I dunno, _ clone _of Fitz that has some terrifyingly good ideas?”

“I wouldn’t say good ideas,” Daisy murmured, so quiet that Jemma could barely hear. She took a few steps backward so she could put the gun down, on the long side of the rolling cart she had kicked earlier. “And it’s a long story-”

“Not an important one,” Jemma clarified- and no one argued with her. At first, Deke didn’t look satisfied- his brows furrowed and he blinked rapidly, but- “Fine, I guess, tell me later- or never.” -was all he said before his attention went back to the wrench in his hand. He went to put it in the pocket of his coat- not that anyone cared.

Jemma let her hand drift to her right arm, the one that Fitz had caught when she had stumbled. His fingers gripped her sleeve tightly, his knuckles white. Slowly, she let her own hand rest atop his, her left on his left- where the feel of those rings so close to one another helped her ease. Maybe Fitz noticed the same thing, because he brought his other hand up to then cover hers. After a few more deep breaths, he began to stand upright; she followed. Those hands on her sleeve tightened their grip before he slipped an arm around her; she let her head be pulled into the crook of his neck, let her own hands return the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” He said a time or two, his voice becoming more steady with each syllable, his breathing following in suit. She let her fingers run up and down his back as she worked to slow her own heart now that they were safe. Well, as safe as they could be- but that wasn’t important right then.

“_ Fitz, Simmons, do you copy? _”

It was Mac.

Jemma turned so she could grab at a communicator; Fitz’ arm remained on her shoulder as she brought it out. “We do. We're fine- Daisy, too-”

“_ Did you find the bastard? _”

The strain in Mac’s voice made her frown slightly and look down at the communicator with sympathy, as if the man could see it. “We- we found it, Mac. And we got rid of it.”


End file.
